


Maybe, When I’m Stronger

by Between_A_Dream



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Drama, F/F, Season 1, before they were dating, letter writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 15:50:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14264421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Between_A_Dream/pseuds/Between_A_Dream
Summary: “I’m just not there right now. I’m not ready to let it all go. Maybe, when I’m stronger, it’ll be different.”In the midst of all the chaos and the emotional confusion, Waverly takes a moment and writes a letter to Nicole.





	Maybe, When I’m Stronger

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys!! So this idea just randomly came to me out of nowhere and I have no idea why I thought of it but I really liked it so I wanted to try and see how it turns out in a fic!! This is set way back in season 1, and probably takes place between episode’s 8 and 9, before Waverly and Nicole have their conversation about unicorns. Same universe and same plot, nothing about the canon storyline is really changing, I’m just adding this in to act as an off screen addition to further showcase Waverly’s struggle about her feelings.
> 
> I feel like we got to see a lot of Nicole’s feelings towards Waverly all through season 1 (Because let’s be honest, they were pretty obvious and her crush was a central plot to her character’s role at the time) but we never really saw Waverly develop her own feelings. We knew she had them, but we didn’t see much about her questioning personally with herself or trying to rationalize everything out clearly, and I thought this would be a cool little one-shot to shed some light on what possibly could’ve been going through her head as she was first falling for Nicole. I have no idea how this is going to go, it could either be really good or really bad, but either way I put a lot of effort into this so I hope you guys enjoy it! Let me know what you thought down below, comments, compliments, or constructive criticism all welcome! Just don’t be an ass- And if you don’t like it then just don't tell me!
> 
> P.S. I’m so sorry I haven’t been as active lately with my other writing!!! I sincerely do apologize and I feel awful, so I’m gonna try to update a bunch of stuff within the next few days!! Please stick with me and forgive my absence, I know it’s been awhile!

_“Dear Officer Haught,-”_

No no, that wasn’t the right beginning at all. It sounded too foreign, too forced, like the words grated against their position uncomfortably, too out of place for the intended use. Nobody except Nedley called her Officer Haught outside of work, unless to tease her about her name or make some kind of clever joke. Once the greeting was neatly erased from the page, a new opening began to take it’s place.

_“Dear Deputy Haught,-”_

No, that felt even worse. Nobody in the sheriffs department was ever addressed as “Deputy” anything, not even senior officers who had been working in the force for years at a time. The only person who was ever given a title other than “officer” was the sheriff, an unspoken Purgatory standard that seemingly dated back far before Nedley took over. Again, the first blue line of the thin gray-white paper was carefully and slowly removed with the non-sharp end of the pencil

“ _Dear Nicole Haught,-”_

Now that one- That had to have been the worst by far. Using her full name made it look like it was addressed to her from a stranger, reminding her about her electric bill or confirming her recent payments made with her credit card. This time, despite how delicately careful the eraser was as it moved across the smudged paper, the undeniable sound of a tear almost made Waverly physically cringe.

Sighing and crumbling the paper in her hands, she tossed it across the room in the general vicinity of the garbage can, but the crinkled page ultimately landed a few feet to the left of her target and close enough that it was obvious the paper had fallen short of the minimum distance required to make the shot, wouldn’t have made it into the garbage even if the shot was lined up better. It was ignored, and forgotten about almost immediately as a second piece of blank, blue-lined paper was pulled out from inside a folder and set in the center of the empty space on the desk.

It wasn’t like Nicole was actually going to be reading the letter anyways. It was to be addressed to her, but it was not intended for her eyes, not written for the purpose of having it delivered into her possession. No, this letter was to be written for Waverly, a coping mechanism she had learned in therapy as a child.

She’d written countless angry, scribbled out letters to Wynonna, both while she was in the mental facility and after she left for Europe. Stacks of tear stained confessions towards the older Earp, either cursing her out for abandoning Waverly when she needed her sister most, for not doing more to stand up for her when they were kids, for leaving wordlessly without hesitating to look back even once, but all of them desperately begging for her near return home.

She’d also written letters to both her parents. Dozens of sheets covered in her neatly slanted handwriting, asking her mom why she thought leaving was the right way to deal with the problems their family had been going through, demanding that her dad provide a viable explanation for the way he’d treated her and the way he let Willa treat her. Telling both of them that she was better off without them in her life, that if it were possible for either to return she wouldn’t bat an eye saying they’d wasted their time by showing up, wouldn’t think twice about it after shutting the door in their face.

There were even papers addressed to Willa- Significantly lacking in amount in comparison to others as far as separate letters went, falling nowhere close to short in terms of content within each of the few that existed. Their length was nearly doubled compared to those centered on the other members in Waverly’s family, so not as many had been needed to convey all the emotion they contained.

Waverly had been advised to throw the letters out when she was finished, as a symbol of sending it to whomever it was addressed without really giving it to them, and was told it would make her feel as though she’d really been able to confess her true feelings without dealing with the conflict it would create had she actually spoke her mind. But, the youngest member of the Earp family found one day after throwing out a letter to Wynonna she grew both paranoid that her sister would someday find and read its contents, and was accompanied by a sinking feeling of guilt about just throwing away her feelings.

So from that day forward, any letters Waverly wrote for herself she kept, cleanly placed and organized in a binder that she kept hidden from any eyes not her own. It was this continued practice that had helped her to cope with the memories of her childhood and the rumors whispered behind her back at school that plagued her mind in the darkest hours of the night while she would lie awake and listen to her thoughts bounce endlessly around the chambers inside her head. And it was this continued practice that also lead her to here, her current position and state of mind, desperately trying to think of the right words to say in a letter to Nicole Haught.

Nicole Haught- A rookie cop who had graduated at the top of her class in the police academy and for whatever reason had chosen Purgatory as the town she wished to find employment. Nicole Haught- A tall, athletically built woman with defined, toned muscles, but a simultaneously soft frame and even softer touch. Nicole Haught- An optimistic, flirtatious, fiery-haired red head with her dimpled smile and her cliché Stetson and her never up-to-code uniform shirt that never was buttoned on the first two sections just below her neck.

Her hometown was the only place Waverly had ever known, the only place on Earth she had ever even set foot, and yet the minute this smooth-talking lesbian had sauntered into Shorty’s one morning, false confidence sparkling in her eyes as she desperately tried to mask her nerves, Purgatory had never felt further from home. Suddenly, home wasn’t making a career for herself working as a barmaid in her aunt’s business. It wasn’t someday getting married to Champ and learning to accept that he was the best option someone like her would ever get. It wasn’t dumbing herself down to nothing more than a “Smile and wave!” to pretend like she was just a pretty face. It wasn’t spending the rest of her life cooped up in their little town of Purgatory like it was just as good as what the rest of the world really had to offer.

Now, home was gazing into a pair of chocolatey-hazel, doe like eyes that stated back at her with a soft expression. It was a cautious hand that hesitated before holding her own gently, squeezing as to confirm that things were going to all be okay. It was a rising wave of emotion in her chest with even the briefest forms of contact, always missed immediately once it broke. It was the easy, steady rise and fall of lungs in a hospital room, their breathing being aided because they’re still too weak to perform the action on their own.

And it was the way that- Whenever she was anywhere even close in vicinity to Nicole, whenever the red haired officer happened to show up in her thoughts, whenever she’d find that now familiar name absentmindedly doodled in her notebooks- Waverly’s heart would race while she would swear that she could walk on water, and terror would fill her so that she could no longer remember how to breathe. Nicole made her feel everything she could think to describe and more, and ultimately the balance created an odd zen-like state where even with her deepest fears gnawing away in the back of her head, she walked forward in confidence she didn’t know the origin of, somehow knowing that she had found where she was meant to be.

_“Dear Nicole,_

_I guess I’m writing this to you because I’m too afraid to say it to you in person yet, but I’m working on it, I promise. I think I know how you feel about me, at least in terms of what you want us to be, but if it’s anything like what I’m going through then I don’t expect you to even begin to try and explain. There is no explaining this. There is no ignoring it, either._

_I’ve tried. I’ve tried since the moment you walked into the bar that morning to pretend this didn’t exist, that these feelings bubbling in my chest weren’t real. And even when I had to accept that they were, I tried to excuse them as curiosity, intrigue with the idea of something I’ve never known inside the boarders of Purgatory. But that’s not it, and I know that as well as you probably do. Everybody around here knows me, but you know me in a different way, a way I thought only existed in my head. You see something deeper than the happy mask I put on for other people, but when it comes to you, I’m starting to think it’s not a mask anymore._

_I don’t have to make sure I smile around you, it just happens. I don’t have to remember that I’m just supposed to be a pretty face. That’s not the way you see me. And Nicole, if I’m being honest? That’s terrifying._

_This town has been my home for my entire life. I’ve never set foot outside this place before, not a single outside step, and the people who live here have known me since I was born. And yet here you are, just barely a permanent resident of Purgatory, and you somehow saw something more than I tried to show you. You didn’t have to try, you didn’t have to press for it, you didn’t have to interrogate me for information, you just knew._

_But for my entire life Nicole, only a handful of people have ever really known me. Two are dead, and one of them... Well, one of them I’m not even sure will stay for as long as they say they will. They left before, nothing is stopping them from leaving again. Not that I think they have any reason to leave, but... Commitment and putting my trust in the hands of others has always been something that I struggle with, because every time I let it happen I’m left a little bit more broken in the end. I know that a lot of your “confidence act” is just that- An act- But at least you’re brave enough to even do that. I can’t pretend I’m sure about my decisions, because I’m not. I never have been, not in years._

_I wish I could be courageous the way you are. You’re willing to lay all your feelings down on the table and take what you get, even if that means rejection. Maybe that’s something you’ve learned over the years. I can’t imagine it being easy to find other women who like women, or at least not as easy as it is to find guys like Champ._

_That’s another reason why I’m so scared. Champ isn’t a great guy- He’s far from it- But he was kind of like a safe zone for me. Does that make sense? When I was with him, people didn’t question me about my past like they did before, and they didn’t see me as the weird Earp girl with a crazy sister. All they saw was Champ’s girlfriend- And though that may not sound like the greatest title to hold above your head, people talked to me when I dated him. They knew me. They_ liked _me- Or at least they had some high school-oriented belief that they were supposed to- Because I was with him. And he’s never been someone I wanted to spend my life with, I just always assumed he was all a girl like me could get. But then you showed up, and suddenly I was confident enough to leave him and realize I deserve better than that, better than him. I deserve someone who will care about me regardless of what I look like, and who won’t judge how important I am based on how I look that day. I deserve someone who is really going to care about me, even if it means taking that first step off the deep end is a shot in the dark..._

_I’m sorry I’m not telling you all of this to your face._

_Knowing you, you’d probably try and tell me it’s okay, that I don’t have to do anything I’m not ready to do, but I know that you deserve to hear this from me. If it’s selfish for me to keep these feelings to myself, just for a little bit longer, I hope you can forgive me for it. I’d give anything to be ready to tell you today, to walk right up to you and say everything I’m writing here out loud, but I’m just not. And it’s not even because I’m scared of you, it’s because I’m scared of me. Nicole, I don’t even know if I’m good enough for someone like you. You have a life to live and a world you can explore, while I’m here stuck in Purgatory for an indeterminate length of time, and I can’t even tell you why I can’t leave. I don’t want to think about the impact that having me in your life will cause, the danger you could potentially be put in just through association with me, and it’s because of that reason that I’m still not quite ready to come forward and tell you all of this._

_It’s really hard pretending that I don’t feel this way for you. And with so much going on outside of all these new feelings, it’s like I’m trapped in the eye of a storm and no matter which way I turn, I’m faced with something that’s keeping me at a standstill. I know you’ll never read this, but this is as close as I can get right now to talking to you, so I can’t explain everything that’s going on, and I’m sorry that I’m hiding so much from you. If I could tell anyone else about all of this, you’d be first on my list. I trust you more than I can really explain, and I promise you that someday I will tell you everything. I give you my word. If I were stronger than I am, I’d try and give you more, but right now that’s all I have to offer._

_Maybe, when I’m stronger, I’ll finally have the confidence to chase after what I want most. Maybe, when I’m stronger, my fear of judgement doesn’t control my life anymore. Maybe, when I’m stronger, I’ll storm into your office with my heart in my hands so I can offer it to you. Maybe, when I’m stronger, I’ll stop making excuses for myself as to why I haven’t told you. Maybe, when I’m stronger, you’ll actually have heard all of this, and I’ll realize how foolish it was of me to hold back all this time. I know it’s completely unfair to you that it can’t be today. But right now I’m still weak- I still need supports just to stand._

_I’m just not there right now. I’m not ready to let it all go. Maybe, when I’m stronger, it’ll be different.”_

Waverly didn’t notice she had been crying until her quivering hand finished writing the last few shaky letters. She stayed still for a time, tears silently slipping down her cheeks, and occasionally dropping to the paper below, subsequently smudging some of the letters together. She paid it no attention, and made no attempt to stop the flow of saltwater rivers as they fell. Her eyes trailed over her words with steady repetition, and when she gained the strength to pull herself away from the cycle she was unsure how much time had truly passed.

Inhaling sharply to steady herself, the young brunette slowly picked up the letter in front of her and reached across her desk to retrieve the binder in which she kept the others. As she opened it, she flipped to the very back and slowly opened the rings, then let the pages in her hand slide into place. She hesitated for a few moments, looking down at the papers thoughtfully, then opened her desk drawer and pulled out a separate, blank sheet of printer paper with three holes on the side.

After writing so much without stopping, Waverly’s hand ached in the place where she held writing utensils, and as she wrote “Nicole” on the front in large, delicate cursive with her black calligraphy pen she gritted her teeth together and squeezed the pen hard. When it was finished, she slid it into place overtop of her letter and shut the binder rings, before closing the entire thing and sliding it into a low drawer on her desk. She wiped at her cheeks to hopefully clear away any remaining tears, but all that was left on her skin now were streaks of dry, salted residue. She sniffled once, then took the time to look outside and see that the day had now turned to night. There was no sound or light coming from the hallway, no sign that anyone in the homestead was still awake, so she flipped off her lights and made her way slowly towards her bed, the room now engulfed in black shadow and providing no illumination aside from a few dull streams of moonlight.

It was then that she noticed how heavy her body felt, how much effort it took to raise her arm just few inches. It was becoming impossible to keep her eyelids open for more than a few seconds at a time, so didn’t bother changing out of the clothes she’d been wearing in the day. She instead collapsed on top of her mattress, burrowing into the nearest pillow she could reach and giving up her fight to keep her eyes open. Almost before she laid her head down, she felt herself give in to the lull of sleep, and her body fell silent as she slipped away into unconsciousness. In the safety of the darkness, it was almost easy to pretend that Nicole was there beside her, watching over Waverly while she slept. Maybe, when she was stronger, someday she wouldn’t have to pretend.


End file.
